


To the Waters and the Wild

by thirdsister



Series: If Only [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1840s, F/M, Folklore, Sam Wilson is a Gift, fishermen, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdsister/pseuds/thirdsister
Summary: 1840s Irish fisherman & mermaid AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For romanogers week Prompts "Meet Ugly" (chapter 1) and "Incomplete" (chapter 2)

There was something strange in the air that day. The day the stories became true. The sea was rough, but the air was still. Not so still that a man couldn’t set sail, of course, but still enough to be uncanny. A choppy sea and an odd feeling couldn’t keep the boys, Steven, Sam, and Bucky, from their duties. They were two years into The Hunger and people were depending on their catch. They’d taken to giving most of it away for free, few folks had coin to spare when the crops started to fail. The boys did what they could to offset the costs, mending nets themselves, even stealing salt from time to time to preserve their catch. On occasion, they made a few pence ferrying folk to one of the major port cities. These days, it seemed like anyone who could was boarding a ship headed for America. Now and again a passenger would ask Sam Wilson, the only one of them who had been to those shining shores, what America was like. “It’s far from a promised land,” he’d say, “I won’t lie to you, neither the journey nor the destination will be easy. But America’s just another place with more people. Good people, bad people, and lots in between. People are the same no matter where you go. I hope you meet the best ones.” He never changed his answer. He never gave false hope. Sam Wilson was, without a doubt, one of the best ones.

Steven Rogers didn’t believe the tall tales Sam and Bucky would swap about the fanciful creatures living beneath the waves. He’d heard them all by now. Bucky would weave tale after tale about the sweet pretty merrow with her magic cap, the fearsome finfolk, the Slavic rusulka whose beauty lured men to a watery grave, Greek sirens who sunk ships with a song, kelpies, and selkies and so many others he’d lost count. Sam wove tales of La Sirena chilota who rescues the shipwrecked, the Caribbean Aycayia who cared for the outcasts, and countless others. Some creatures were kind, some were cruel, some monstrous, and some beautiful, all supposedly waiting in the deep.

Steven never believed a word until that day. Everything changed when the sun fell and they hauled in their catch. It took all three of them together. The net was heavier than usual, as if the contents inside were fighting their capture rather than floundering helplessly as they normally did. Panting, the men hauled the net over the side and dropped it on the deck. That’s when they saw it. Something large thrashing about amongst the fish.

“What do you suppose?” Bucky gestured to the net.

“Porpoise most likely. Sam, can you find an oar or something of the sort? We’ll need leverage to get back over into the water.” Steven instructed.

“I’ll get one, but the way that’s moving? I don’t think it’s a porpoise, Cap.”

Captain Rogers moved closer to inspect the creature they’d unwittingly captured. Sam was right, it was no porpoise. Porpoises did not have scales, but this creature had a long muscular tail covered in them. Dark green and blue, like it was covered in jewels. Once he got close enough he could see that the torso connected to that powerful tail wasn’t that of a fish, it was… human. There she was, struggling against his net. Fiery hair and eyes green as kelp.

“maighdean mhara” He breathed, “Steady now, it’s all right. Just keep still and we’ll get you out of the net in no time.”

He was so focused on the sea maid’s face, that he didn’t see her hands release their grip on the net. He didn’t see the spear until she had jabbed it into his shoulder.


	2. Hooked

“Jesus, Feck” He groaned and stumbled backward clutching the weapon jutting out of his shoulder. He could hear Wilson and Barnes clamoring behind him. The last thing they needed was more chaos on the deck. “Stay back,” He shouted and the men, bless them, obeyed. He wrenched the spear out of his flesh and let loose a string of expletives. He normally didn’t hold with that kind of talk in the presence of a lady, but seeing as the lady had stabbed him, it seemed some formalities of etiquette could be done away with for the moment.

He turned his attention back to the creature in his net. “For feck sake, woman, I’m trying to help ya!” 

She snapped her jaws and hissed at him, using her hands to scoot back on her belly. The way she positioned herself, weight on her hands, elbows bent, tension coiling through her shoulders, Steven thought she was reminiscent of a feline ready to pounce. The blood dripping from his shoulder told him that she was far more dangerous than some house cat. He took a breath and considered what he must look like to her. He’d spent so much of his youth as a scrawny whelp, he sometimes forgot that he’d grown into quite the imposing figure. Tall, broad shouldered, bearded, and muscular. Here he was, looming over this poor creature, who likely couldn’t understand his words, trapped in a net. 

He placed her spear out of reach. She was quick and deceptively strong and he had no desire to be stabbed again. He lowered himself to sit in front of her, holding up his hands, palms facing her so she could see they were empty. “Shhh, Shh, it’s alright. No one’s gonna hurt ya.” He kept his voice even and low, looking her in the eyes. She was certainly something to behold. 

“What is this fool doing?” Sam whispered. Bucky only shook his head and shrugged in reply. They were rooted to the spot, watching with fascination. Sam hoped Steven knew what he was doing, but he made sure his knife was at the ready just in case.

Steven stayed like that for a while hoping he wasn’t losing too much blood. Eventually, he saw her posture relax slightly and her breath deepen. 

“Alright, maighdean mhara” She tilted her head and her eyes sparked with what seemed like recognition. Perhaps she did understand him after all. He began reaching for the spear, keeping his voice calm and his movements slow, “I’m going to cut you free” He mimed with his hands before bringing the spear to the netting and ripping a wide hole in it. It would take hours to repair, he knew, but it was the right thing to do. He held the blunt end of the spear out to her.

“There you are. Just don’t stab me again, alright?” Her brows knit together; she regarded him curiously as she took hold of the weapon. He kept himself bent as he backed away from the net, leaving a path for her to climb out. 

She moved like lightning. She was out of the net and over the side of the boat in a flash. The boys rushed to the side to watch her tail disappear beneath the waves with a splash. And then she was gone. A hole in the net and a bloody arm the only signs that she’d been there at all. 

“That is one nasty gash. Barnes, grab the poteen, will you?” Wilson instructed. Bucky rummaged through his rucksack briefly before laying hands on the flask of high proof alcohol. None of the men were surgeons, but they’d all seen battle and seen what happens when a deep wound is left uncleansed. 

Steve cursed as Barnes poured poteen on the bloody mark. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, Cap?”

“My mother’s dead, so I doubt she minds”

Sam let out a laugh. It was a warm sound. Hearty and nourishing. Sometimes, Steven and Bucky wondered why Sam Wilson had chosen to make his life here, this cold, wet island, doing back breaking work in a time of famine, but they were so glad he had. Sam Wilson was the kind friend who kept you honest and hopeful. Hope was in short supply in times like these. 

\--

“You didn’t kill him?” Okoye asked, voice dripping with incredulity. 

“Say it louder, I don’t think all of Finfolkaheem heard you” Shuri deadpanned. Okoyed tugged pointedly on the braid she was plaiting. “Ouch! Has it been so long since you grew your hair that you don’t remember that the scalp has nerves in it?”

“Quiet, little genius” Okoye shushed.

“I’m not so little. My tail is as long as yours. I’m sixteen, I’m not a child.”

Wanda, Aneka, Ayo, and Natalia barely stifled their laughter. Though she wasn’t a hunter, Shuri had earned her way into the warriors’ inner circle by making incredible weapons. Young as she was, no one in Finfolkaheem was nearly as inventive. The violet tailed young mermaid had quickly made herself both indispensable and beloved. A baby sister to _the Maelstrom_ , the five most formidable fighters beneath the waves. 

“If we could focus, please” Ayo interjected, sensible as always, “What possessed you to leave human alive? There were only three of them, if you’d changed they would have been no match for you, Widow-maker.”

“It wasn’t like I’d been hunting him and his crew, he wasn’t a whaler. They were just fishermen. And it just didn’t _feel_ right. He cut open his own net to set me free. What kind of fisherman does that? And he gave me my spear back after I’d stabbed him. There was something in his eyes... trust, perhaps. Snuffing that out would have been a waste.” She didn’t use the word lightly. Wastefulness was anathema in Finfolkaheem, wastefulness and greed. 

“So,” Shuri piped excitedly, “do you think you’ll see the good captain again?”

\--  
Days turned to weeks and the wound in Captain Roger’s shoulder healed without incident. It had taken a few sutures, but all that was left of the ragged tear in his flesh was a slender scar. Sometimes, when the air pressure would change, he’d feel a dull ache where the spear had pierced him, but it always disappeared the moment he left the shore. Perhaps he was imagining it, but he had the foolish notion that it meant something. 

He’d lost count of the times he’d picked up charcoal and pad to sketch her. But each time he did, he’d look down at his creation and feel empty. There was _something _missing. Not matter how faithful he tried to be, every drawing felt incomplete. Perhaps he just needed to add color. But then, there was no money for paint. He’d just have to see her again. He didn’t know how he’d manage it, but he had to find her. It was the only logical option.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The I'm using a mix of folklore for the mermaids themselves, but the underwater kingdom of Finfolkaheem comes from Scottish Orcadian folkore.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr[ here ](http://thirdsisfics.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.


	3. A Close Tongue Keeps A Safe Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven and Sam meet a stranger who might know something about the mermaid who speared the captain. 
> 
> We flash back to Natalia's first solo mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a brief description of murder. Nothing graphic.

The dingy pub in Cobh was buzzing with activity and Barnes was holding court. Sam and Steven smirked into their pints as Barnes, a natural born storyteller, recounted a highly embellished version of their mermaid encounter to a group of pub patrons. Many of whom, Steve noted with amusement but without surprise, were ladies. Barnes could charm the spots off a leopard. He’d likely charm himself right into some young woman’s home before the night was through. Steven had to admit, chivalry aside, Barnes’ way of doing things looked far more comfortable than the restless night of sleep he and Sam would get on The Avenger before they all set a course for home at sunrise. Their trips to and from Cobh could be grueling, but they always made a few bob and it was the closest of the major ports they could be ferrying folk to.

“That fool one of your lot?” asked a fellow patron as he pulled out a chair opposite Sam and Steven. Clearly a sailor, there were deep, weather beaten lines in his pleasant face. He looked to be of middle years, not long past 40. 

“Unfortunately, yes” Sam grumbled.

“You’ve seen her then?” It took Steven a moment to place the stranger’s accent. Not Irish, to be sure, Cornwall perhaps. He considered telling the man that Barnes was just telling tales, but something in the steadiness of the sailor’s gaze or perhaps the earnestness of the man’s tone gave him pause. 

“I have a story in me. And yourself?”

A mischievous spark flitted across the stranger’s otherwise flinty stare. He reclined in his seat and drummed his fingers on the table as he prepared to recount his own brush with flame-haired sea maiden. “Some folks say she’s a myth, some phantom made up to scare the young lads. ‘The Red Death’ some call her, the ‘Sea Shadow’. I’m a sensible man. I’d say they were right... if I hadn’t seen her myself. It was years ago now. I was working aboard a whaling ship. We were making our way north. There wasn’t anything remarkable about that night. Well, I remember it being colder than a witch’s teat, but other than that. The sky was clear, the sea was calm, there was a good steady wind. We thought luck was on our sides. Fools, the lot of us.”

\--  
“Look up, Natalia, the stars are smiling on you.” Aneka grinned, pointing at the cloudless sky. She felt the tension in her chest ease slightly. This would be her first solo mission and Natalia would happily accept good omens in any form. 

“Natalia” Okoye called.

“Yes, general”

Okoye motioned her over. Her keen eyes surveyed Natalia’s face in the starlight inspecting her resolve. “What is the rule about survivors?”

“Strike hard and fast. Strike to kill and do not linger. We kill only with purpose. Leave enough survivors to sail home so that the story may spread.”

“Very good. And what do you do if you are cornered?”

Natalia thought for a moment. A smile crept onto her face as she remembered an earlier team strike. _They had been aboard a ship much larger than the one Natalia was steeling herself to attack on her own. A leering sailor with stringy hair and teeth as rotten as his soul had raised his pistol inches from the general’s face. Clearly thinking he’d secured the upper hand, he had wheezed “Not so fast, sea witch. You crawl out of the depths and onto a man’s ship, interfere with a man’s business, a man has no choice but to put ya in yer place." The general threw Natalia a quick wink before easily knocking the primitive weapon out of the sailor’s hand with the blunt end of her spear. She laughed out loud. “I am Okoye, General of the Maelstrom, the ocean floor is littered with the bones of men who have tried to ‘put me in place’” She wrapped one hand around his neck. Natalia watched in admiration as the man’s eyes grew wide with fear and surprise and Okoye snapped his neck as effortlessly as one might break a small fishbone._

“I remember whose sister I am and I show no mercy.”

“You are ready. Remember, we will be waiting beneath the waves if you should need us. Make Finfolkaheem proud, sister.” Silently, they brought their foreheads together, a gesture of affection and affirmation. The Maelstrom were not related by blood (a blessing considering that Ayo and Aneka were lovers) but they were sisters. A pod. Family in every way that mattered.

She scaled the side of the ship, silent as a shadow. A crew of 20 it looked like. Judging by the rigging they’d need at least 12 to make it back. She dispatched the captain first using one of the ship’s harpoons instead of her spear purely for the poetry. It was almost too easy. She purposely made a commotion on the deck to draw out more of the crew. The first five who rushed her were dead in a heartbeat, bringing her kill count to 6. Poor bastards never stood a chance. She could take out two more if she liked, but it didn’t seem right, easy prey that they were. 

She looked up and saw a man with resolute eyes aiming an arrow squarely at her heart. 

“I’d step carefully, if I were you. I never miss.”

She stepped forward and he loosed his arrow, she batted it out of the air with her spear. There was no doubt that his aim was true, had she been a fraction slower, it would have pierced her heart. He had another arrow ready in the blink of an eye. Finally, a worthy opponent. 

“I’d turn the ship around, if I were you. These waters are protected.” 

He regarded her curiously before slowly lowering his bow and giving her a curt nod. She flashed him a radiant smile before running and diving over the deck. 

\--

“And she was gone. Six dead. You better believe we turned tail and ran. I tell ya, you couldn’t pay me to set foot on a whaling ship ‘specially not one bound for those waters. Even if the industry wasn’t on its last legs already.”

“That’s quite the story, Mister...?”

“Barton. You can call me Clint.”

“When you say ‘those waters’ you wouldn’t happen to have an exact location, would you?” Steven asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. Judging by the way Sam was pursing his lips, he wasn’t entirely successful. 

“I’ve put together rough estimate of their territory based on my account and the others I’ve heard.”

“Others?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“You hear about the crew of the Ulysses? Smugglers. They've heard the rumors, but they don't listen, so they? Too greedy and halfwitted to pass up the shortest route. They sail through those waters, they’re almost through when the sea gets choppy, they start hearing shrieks, spears launching themselves out of the waves. They’re so spooked they dump half their cargo for added speed. The captain’s tellin’ em ‘dump it and move, keep your hands on your weapons and your eyes off the sea’ and they make it through. It all goes quiet. But they can’t resist can they? They’re safe, so what’s the harm? They take turns looking through the spyglass. It’s not just her. It’s a whole mess of them, they think, but then they’re gone in a flash and the sea is calm and they tell themselves it was all a bit of nonsense. Too long spent in open waters. They make it to shore laughing at themselves and wishin’ they hadn’t parted with half their loot. They fancy themselves safe as houses. Not six months go by and every man on that crew is dead.” 

“You know someone on that crew or are you just pulling our legs?” Sam asked.

“One of the men was a friend of a... well, ‘friend’ is a strong word, more like dodgy acquaintance. I’m above board these days and I don’t hold with those types, but I knew a few disreputable lads in my youth.” There’s amusement in Barton’s voice, a twinge of regret in his eyes. Steven and Sam get the sense that their new acquaintance has been many things, but boring isn’t among them. 

"What was it they were hauling?"

"Can't say I have any idea. Though I can't imagine it was anything wholesome. You boys shipping out tonight?”

“Early tomorrow.” Steven answered.

“Christ, you’ll be leaving at first light, I take it. Fine," he huffed, "have a map and a bit of something to write with ready and I’ll drop by your boat. Which one am I looking for?”

“The Avenger”

“Right. See you at dawn, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title "A Close Tongue Keeps A Safe Head" is taken from a traditional Orkney tale about the finkfolk which also involves human men telling tales in pubs. It works out considerably better for Clint and Bucky than it did for the human protagonist of that particular story.
> 
> 10 points to whomever correctly guesses what two things the name of the smuggling ship is a reference to. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr[ here ](http://thirdsisfics.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.


End file.
